Paraphernalia
by Quackcakes
Summary: A Better Days two-shot that takes place somewhere between the 8th and 9th chapter, please take a look at the original story first, although it could be read in isolation (just better with all the context as with most things!)
1. Chapter 1

Two small spots of light stood in isolation, balancing like ice figures on the coffee table, reflected out of a pair of spectacles that one perched on the bridge of Severus' nose now rested unused. Rather than forgetting to bring a pair he had resigned to leaving one behind, so he was never without the ability to delve into one of the dusty tomes Hermione had somehow foraged from the back of antique bookstore in the middle of nowhere. These were not the only items that Severus Snape had left behind, on the cloak stand hung a large black coat, to be worn for their frequent walks out upon the moors, similarly there was a chocolate woollen jumper that tended to lay draped across an armchair or find itself being worn by a Miss Hermione Granger. Along the kitchen windowsill lay several small pots, each with its own unusual plant, as Hermione had been told oxygenated the room, provided a cleansing of the aura of her home, imbuing the air with calming properties. As well as the lavender that was tied above the door, charmed to never fade in scent not colour she inhaled each time she walked past. There was also now an extra mug left by the sink, or the kettle, or the coffee table, or outside in the sunshine, wherever they had decided to take tea that day. If the lingering stray black hairs found around the house were not enough, anyone should find his presence given away by the gift he had presented her with shortly after their first fight. Whilst she had been content with an apology, he had struggled to reconcile her forgiveness with his own shame and guilt. The tea pot was ebony and jade, carved with depictions of eastern serpents that encircled the pot, their scales keeping the outside cool and insulating the hot tea within.

Her fingers stroked along its surface, trailing finally across cool tiles and coming to rest on her beloved copy of pride and prejudice, the note signed S.S hidden inside, like a secret that was hers to keep. One day, she knew they would come, and that this sanctuary, this haven would be discovered. But she now felt far too fond of the little trinkets that had gathered here in this nest to hide them. In due course so would let them see, peer into this little word that they had created, but for now she resolved to just enjoy the silence and the peace of it all quiet, alone but not at all lonely.


	2. Chapter 2

First, there were two pairs of wellington boots by the door, for those slightly wetter excursions, these would only do. Advancing further into the home of Severus Snape one could expect to find several trinkets that could not be assumed to belong to the dark-haired wizard, for example, the delicate curls that seemed to cling to and land upon everything like a cat. Severus found himself constantly removing these hairs from his clothes, books and table tops. A pair of jeans still lay in the laundry, neither getting around to return nor ask for the item of clothing back, after a particularly rainy day, it had made more sense to remove the cold clothes and wash them, although one could say they were even, as the clothes that Hermione had borrowed from Severus still resided in her house also. Other relics included a mug that Hermione had bought Severus a while back, emblazoned in red and gold she was the only one to ever use it. There was a photograph now too, sat upon the mantlepiece, Severus had an interest in photography, and now amidst the landscapes and scenic views lay central the image of them out upon the moors, this was not the only photograph that had been taken, many rested in various stages of development, pictures of wild curls at war with salt spray lay hidden away in drawers and scrapbooks.

There were more books now too, if Severus' house hadn't been full of them before it certainly was now, the shelves no longer large enough to contain the wealth of extra knowledge Hermione had brought, they now stacked in piles on tables, by sofas and always on the edge of the armchair she had claimed as her own. The hedonist in him had been awakened by her presence, for now, chocolate boxes rested by the bin and half empty bottles of wine stood in the kitchen, he needn't drink alone anymore.

Whilst not a physical object, the air had changed in his home, his scent and potion fumes no longer permeated the abode, a feminine fruity scent now populated his house, it was something he could not and similarly did not wish to remove. Another habit he had picked up from her was the burning of scented candles, he had used those that were in Hogwarts as a semblance of mood lightning, reminiscent from his days of encouraging a bat like nature brooding in his cave, but now cinnamon also intermingled with forest fruits and his head felt dizzy just thinking about it all. There was no doubt now that if Minerva visited his quarters she would know that a woman had a hand here, that she resided here and that it didn't seem as though either expected her to leave in the near future. Whilst always one to keep his private life more heavily concealed than a bandaged wound, he felt a strange sense of pride in this home they had created, he found himself smiling, unashamed and unafraid of Minerva (not that her judgement would be too strong) or anyone else who might come their way, maybe later on the implications of these thoughts would come crashing down on him, the reality of his standing, his issues or _insecurities_ and the differences between them would be apparent, but right in this moment, as he found himself staring at her favourite spot, imagining eyes wildly ablaze in the firelight, he simply did not care.


End file.
